


Twenty Questions

by theleafpile



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Post 3x10, Tumblr Prompt, chloe has trust issues, i don't know what happened, lucifermorningstarlux, this was supposed to be cute, twenty questions game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleafpile/pseuds/theleafpile
Summary: Chloe and Lucifer play the game twenty questions... with some modifications. They get to each ask each other twenty questions, and have to answer honestly. They both know Lucifer doesn't lie.The truth, however, requires trust.And belief.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt from @lucifermorningstarlux:
> 
> "I would love for there to be an interview scenario between Lucifer and Chloe, like she gets to ask him twenty questions about anything. And he has to answer with no side distractions. And then Lucifer gets to ask her twenty questions and she has to answer truthfully. I can literally imagine all sorts here."
> 
> My take.
> 
> Enjoy.

Lucifer pulled the chair out for Chloe to sit before dragging the other around to the opposite end of the steel table. The interrogation room lights shone above them mercilessly, casting no shadows. The sound of the metal chair scraping across the concrete floor scratched the inside of Chloe’s ears, but she kept her mouth shut in a thin line.

Lucifer could have his antics if it finally meant she could have answers.

Of course he didn’t notice the tension in her shoulders, the calculation behind her gaze. Instead, his eyes shone dark and mischievous under the bright lights, his smile more similar to what she imagined a lion might smile like, its mouth coated in fresh blood.

He sat, crossing his legs and setting his folded hands atop his knee, the very picture of poise.

She rested her forearms on the table, leaning forward. 

“You may begin,” he offered magnanimously, lifting a hand as though he were a king, and she his subject.

_Nuh-uh. Not today, buddy._

“You know the rules?” she confirmed. 

He had the audacity to feign boredom. “I think of something, and you have twenty questions to figure it out.”

She shook her head slowly. “Nope,” she said, the word popping off her lips.

She caught the small tilt of his head, his curiosity piqued. “No?”

“I ask you twenty questions, and you have to answer them all. Truthfully.”

Something behind his gaze flickered, unsure.

“C’mon,” she said, her voice low. “Aren’t you always up for breaking the rules?”

He leaned closer. “I’m always _up_ , darling.”

She hid the smile at his innuendo, hoping that he couldn’t sense how her heart had jumped at the thought of him playing along. “Is that a yes, or not?”

He leaned back, his gray suit as impeccable as the rest of him. “Twenty questions, all answered truthfully,” he confirmed. She nodded. “And I get the same?”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, thinking that she had far less to hide. “Yep.”

“Concurrently?”

“Why not?”

“You do realize that I don’t lie, regardless?”

She bit her tongue to keep it from lashing out. She was so tired of his half-truths, his omissions, that even if she didn’t get the whole truth of out him now, she could at least get a better sense of what to ask later.

“Yep,” is all she would say.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “If it’s truly what you desire, then who am I to judge?” He looked her over hungrily. “And I can think of a few burning questions I want answers to, myself.”

Satisfied, she tugged a scrap piece of paper from her back pocket and smoothed it out on the table, pen already in hand. She drew a line, making two columns, and wrote “C” in one, “L” in the other. 

“I can remember how many I ask, you know,” he huffed out, incredulous that she would go to _such_ lengths.

“I don’t trust you,” she answered easily.

 _Too_ easily, he thought, even as she smiled teasingly at him. But how could be blame her for that? 

If he were being honest.

The ordeal with the Sinnerman had left her walking away from him. Had left her nearly getting shot, only to be saved by… Cain.

Of all people.

His jaw clenched, and Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if it was directed at her.

“Who first?” she asked lightly, eyes downcast on the paper, pulling it back toward her.

“Why don’t you go ahead?” he said, feeling the dark cord of jealousy pulling tighter within him at the thought of her and Marcus – Cain – doing anything together. Even working together. Even being on the same _planet_ together had his teeth set on edge.

“Okay,” she breathed out, suddenly nervous. 

There were so many questions, that she couldn’t be sure where to begin.

She shyly lifted her gaze to his before steeling herself, pressing on.

“Why are you upset right now?” she asked quietly, busying herself with ticking off a question under the “C” column.

He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He heaved in a breath to answer, shifting uncomfortably. 

“I don’t trust ‘Marcus Pierce.’”

“You have to be honest,” she reminded him, setting down the pen. 

He clenched his jaw once more. “I am being honest.”

She nodded thoughtfully, and he could see the resolution in her expression, the sense of disappointment. 

He hated it.

“And I don’t…” he began again, and her eyes shot up to his, “I don’t want you anywhere near him. He’s dangerous.”

She took in his words. “It’s your turn,” she prompted.

“Do you like him?” he asked, steepling his fingers, elbows on the table.

“Really? That’s your first question? You’re as bad as Ella.”

He waited, an eyebrow raised. 

Chloe screwed up her mouth. This was going to be harder than she thought. “I don’t know,” she decided. “And that’s the truth. He’s not the best boss I’ve ever had. He’s an ass. But he did save my life.”

“Once,” Lucifer added.

“Yeah. Once. It was enough to make me believe he’s got good instincts.” 

He acquiesced, folding his hands in front of him. “You’re turn.”

She ticked off his box, trying to hide her nervous swallow. “Have you ever seen a therapist, or been institutionalized, before we met?”

“Why would I have been?”

She shot him a look. “You can’t answer a question with a question. And you know why.”

“No. Despite countless horror movies depicting me as haunting abandoned hospitals, I have never been committed or seen anyone before Linda.”

 _Lenient parents_ was her first thought, but then she remembered – he always spoke of becoming the Devil _after_ being kicked out of the house.

“When was the last time you had sex?” he asked, a cheeky grin firmly in place.

She really didn’t want to tell him that.

Her hand darted out, slipping under his suit jacket – much to her partner’s surprise – retrieving his flask. His smile widened as she took a shot.

She coughed at the burn of the alcohol. He made no move to retrieve it. “Before Dan and I divorced,” she managed.

Lucifer’s grin faded as his mouth dropped open. She had expected an immediate offer, or some comment about him barely going more than a day without, but there was only abject pity in his eyes.

“You poor thing,” he told her. “No wonder you throw yourself into your work.”

“I’ve always done that,” she weakly protested.

He suddenly leaned forward, eager. “When was the last time you orgasmed?”

“You know it’s my turn, right?”

He waved it off. “You’ll have two in a row, then. Answer the question, detective.”

She licked her lips. “I may have… orgasmed,” she said, looking directly into his eyes, “this morning.”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “How?” he asked.

She couldn’t tear herself away from his gaze, wondering if this was how those he questioned felt. But she felt no pull to dispel her darkest desires, or whatever. She was simply… captivated, by his attention, 100% on her.

“I woke up early,” she explained, her voice soft, drawing him in closer. She may as well have a bit of fun, and teasing Lucifer was always sure to be a good time. “Everything was quiet. Everything felt warm, and smooth,” she drew out, her legs rubbing together at the memory, so different from the hard lights and metal she found herself surrounded by now. Something in Lucifer’s gaze had become serious. She lifted a finger to her neck, trailing down to the skin of her chest, drawing down her v-neck blouse to between her breasts. His eyes followed the movement like a predator watching prey. Her finger drew small circles on her chest as she remembered. “I was dreaming about something, I don’t remember what, now. But I felt… loved. And,” her breath caught, and his body jumped at the sound. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her finger moving down over her stomach, disappearing under the table. She decided to be brave. “I wanted.”

“Tell me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that a question?” she murmured.

“If you wish it to be.”

Her heart raced in her chest, but she could feel it all the way down to her fingertips, pulsing. “You,” she whispered. “Or some version of you.”

She expected him to lean back, to gloat. 

He did not.

Instead, he looked…

Sad.

Eventually he came back to himself, clearing his throat and moving away slightly. “That’s five, now” he told her, tapping the paper at her elbow, breathing hard.

Dutifully, she wrote it down.

They had breached from playful to serious, and now she felt she could really ask the questions on her mind.

“Why do you have sex so much?”

He stared at the table. “Is it a lot?”

She decided not to count it, if he was only clarifying. “It really is an inordinate amount. Unsustainable.”

He breathed out his nose a short puff. “It’s fun,” he answered. “I’m good at it. Brings people pleasure. And me, obviously.”

She waited for more.

He still couldn’t bring himself to look at her, surprised by the words coming from his mouth. “Sometimes, in the midst of it, I catch them looking at me with this expression,” he began, then paused.

She wanted to reach out, to cover his hand in her own, but she didn’t.

“Like, wonder, almost,” he decided. “Or… awe,” he sighed. “I suppose it’s built into me, to want it.”

“Why?” she asked.

He huffed, shaking his head, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “No matter how far I’ve Fallen,” he said, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, “I was an angel first.”

The silence stilled the air around them until he spoke again. “Do you believe me?” he asked, finally lifting his eyes to hers.

“No,” she answered. “Do you need me to?”

“It would certainly make things easier.”

She couldn’t help a small smile at that, at seeing the man she was more familiar with returning. 

“Will you ever have sex with me?” he asked.

_Yep, he was back._

“Ever?” she confirmed.

“Ever.”

She considered it. “I don’t know what the future holds.”

He smiled. It wasn’t smug. Just pleased.

“How do you unlock… everything. Handcuffs. Doors.”

“I am the Devil, darling. Comes with the package.”

“Why?”

“Because not even Hell can hold the Devil, let alone a few pieces of flimsy metal.”

“And that’s the truth?”

“Always,” he assured. “Now tell me,” he said, leaning in, “Did you really want the spawn?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Dan wanted kids more than I did,” she admitted. “He comes from a big family. But I knew one was going to be enough for me.”

“That’s not really an answer to the question I asked.”

She knew the answer, but had never said it out loud before. “I didn’t want kids. After the way my mom was… I wasn’t really sure what kind of mother I’d be. And I had a rough pregnancy. Not that it’s any of your business, but I ended up getting my tubes tied after Trixie was born. Dan and I fought about that a lot.” She took in a breath, thinking back. “But after I had her, I knew that I never wanted to be without her. I love her more than anything else.”

Lucifer sighed, obviously displeased. He leaned back, turning and throwing an arm over the back of the chair.

“Do you have any kids?” she asked. “That you know of?”

“Wouldn’t the world have ended, then? If I had fathered the Antichrist?”

“Answer the question.”

His gaze drifted toward the door, and she looked, wondering what he was thinking lay beyond it. “Not that I know of, no,” he answered, bringing himself back to her with a smile. “Surprised?”

“Actually, a little. Given your, you know. You-ness.”

He smiled then, a little proud. She decided to try and lighten the mood between them. “What instruments do you play?”

“All of them.”

She shot him a look. He shrugged. 

“What languages do you speak?”

“All of them,” he answered again, amused.

“All of them,” she repeated.

“Yep.”

“How?”

“They aren’t particularly difficult to learn, especially when you have an infinite number of test subjects to learn from and no time limit.”

“How many nightclubs have you owned?”

He studied his fingernails for a moment. “I haven’t really been on Earth long enough to get everything in order, before now. Well, there was that one. You may have heard of it. Little place called Eden.”

She gave a curt nod, trying not to roll her eyes. 

“Where were you born?”

“I wasn’t born so much as created,” he corrected, “but I first came into being in the Silver City.”

“Which is… Heaven.”

“Colloquially.”

Chloe stared down at the paper, keeping track. “And what was your name?”

He didn’t answer, so she looked up.

“Why do you ask? Trying to run a background check? I assure you, I won’t be in any databases.”

“Yes,” she answered truthfully, feeling anger build itself in the center of her body. “If you won’t tell me the truth, then I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

“I am telling you the truth.”

“No, Lucifer,” she sighed, setting down the pen. “You’re just telling me more of the same bullshit I hear from you all the time.”

He had the audacity to look surprised. She let her face fall into her hands before smoothing back her hair, frustrated.

“Why don’t you want to tell me your name?” she asked. “There’s got to be some reason. Some real reason. Were you in WitSec, or did you change it to get away from your dad, or –”

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” he interrupted.

“Yeah, I get that, and it’s not like I want to start calling you something else, because weirdly enough, you hear ‘Lucifer’ enough times and it becomes just like any other name.”

Realizing his mouth was open, he shut it.

“I just want to understand.”

He softened under her imploring gaze. There was no malice behind it, no searching for something she could use against him.

“If I tell you, will you never repeat it?”

She blinked a few times, surprised, but nodded all the same.

He looked up and over her shoulder, toward the camera with its little blinking red light. She knew that footage was recorded, but Lucifer had quickly made friends with the officer who transcribed interviews and interrogations, resulting in a lot of the stranger occurrences and questions being left out of official reports. It wouldn’t take much for someone to dig deeper, but so far, they had been lucky.

“Can I tell you later?” he asked.

Her heart leapt in her chest at the thought, but on the surface she remained calm. “Of course.”

“Eleven for me,” he said, relieved. He tapped the paper. “Fifteen for you.” 

She noted it, and ticked off another in her column. “When you wanted to show me proof of who you were,” she started, hesitantly. “What stopped you?”

“I don’t know,” he started, then realized that wasn’t entirely true. “Someone… took it from me.”

“What were you going to show me?”

He tensed. “My face. My true face.”

“Your… face.”

“Well, I couldn’t bloody well show you my…” he faltered.

She stilled. “Your what?”

He looked away, and she tried to figure out the expression on his face. 

“I’ve seen your everything, you know,” she said lightly, pushing at his forearm. 

“Not everything, I’m afraid. Not this.”

“Not what?”

He hid any discomfort behind a neutral expression. “My wings. And I couldn’t show you because… because I had cut them off that morning. Little did I know they would simply grow back.”

She pulled her hand up to her mouth, running her fingers over her lips, thinking.

“Do you often struggle with, um. Body modification?”

He shook his head, not understanding. He gestured to himself. “Why would I need to change this?”

She decided to let it go.

“No, seriously,” he said. “Why would I need to change?”

“People change,” she told him.

He huffed. “Not inside. The outside. I mean,” he chuckled, then gestured down his body with body hands. “Perfection, am I right?”

She only shook her head. “Do I have to answer that?”

“Yes. And I’ll even be generous and not count that as a question, considering you only have one remaining.”

She quickly counted her marks, realizing it was true. Obstinate, she ticked off two more in his column. 

“No,” she agreed. “Your body is very… nice.”

“Nice?” he repeated, astounded. “ _Nice_?”

“I said _very_ nice.”

“Oh, because _very nice_ is so much better.”

She giggled at his outrage, and he relaxed. 

“Alright. You have eight questions left.” She looked at him through her lashes. “Use them wisely, cause I’ll probably never do this with you again.”

She lifted the pen and waited expectantly.

“Do you have any sex toys?”

“Nope,” she answered, making another tick mark.

He shook his head, frankly disappointed. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

She coyly answered. “I messed around a little, when I was younger. Nothing serious.”

“If money was no object, where would you like to go? Anywhere in the world,” he added.

“Barcelona,” she answered, and he was surprised at how quickly she responded. “I don’t know. Ever since I was little, I always just liked the name. Always felt drawn toward it. Never found the time to go, I guess.”

“Is this,” he lifted a hand, gesturing to the empty room, “really what you want to do with your life?”

“Be a cop, you mean?” He nodded. She shrugged. “I told you before. After my dad died, I just… knew. It feels right. To help people. To put away people who shouldn’t be on the streets.”

“Even if money was no object? Is this truly how you would desire to spend your time?”

She considered it. “Yeah. I mean, I wish I could spend more time with Trixie. I wish the job wasn’t so dangerous. But I know that I can do it. I’m strong enough to, and not everyone is. I guess I feel responsible, like I’m taking the burden off someone else’s shoulders.”

Slowly, his expression melded from one of disbelief to understanding. She wanted to ask why he did this, why he chose to help her, but something in her told her to wait.

She only had one question left, after all.

She knew he had been wronged, and that this was his way for making up for that. She wouldn’t probably get a straight answer out of him, anyway.

“Do you feel guilty about anything?” he asked.

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think we all have our fair share.”

“No,” he said desperately, shifting to rest his weight on his elbows, leaning close. “No. Really, truly guilty. About something. Something that weighs your heart down. A moment you repeat, over and over, wishing it could have gone differently, knowing that you are responsible for the consequences of those actions.”

She rested back, shocked at the fear in his eyes. She knew the answer, of course. It sat on her tongue, ready to be freed.

“Yes,” she answered. His eyes widened. “For a long time I felt guilty about my dad, knowing that he was where he was only because he was doing something for me.”

Suddenly, he reached across and took her hand in his. “You mustn’t feel any guilt over that. None whatsoever.”

She stared at his hand covering hers, at the black ring that adorned his middle finger. A question sat on her lips – why – but she couldn’t bring herself to ask it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly. “To lift that burden?”

She huffed out a laugh, willing away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “The Devil himself doesn’t want me to go to Hell,” she said, lifting her eyes to his with a small smile. 

He returned hers with a smile of his own, one that just barely reached his eyes. “No. He doesn’t.”

She breathed out. He made to pull away, but her thumb running over his stopped him. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Unless you want to promise me you’ll come break me out if I wind up there.”

His words surprised her. 

“I would move Heaven and Earth to do so.”

She scooted closer, turning over her hand to hold his. He gazed at her softly.

“Do you believe me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she admitted, studying their hands. “And that was your last question.”

“You have one left, as I recall.”

Unbidden tears welled in her eyes, and he shook his head, not understanding.

“I already know the answer, I think,” she said, a tear trailing down her cheek as she offered him a smile. “But I’m not sure if you do.”

“Seems you should ask it, then.”

He squeezed her hand gently as she studied his face.

“Do you love me?” she asked, quietly.

In that moment, he understood.

He understood why his wings were back, and his scars, gone. His Father had only asked one thing of him. To love humanity. And he never had. 

Before.

When he decided to tell her the truth, he _knew_. Knew it with more surety than he had ever felt for anything else in his life.

She squeezed his hand in his silence.

“I didn’t know that I could love anyone,” he confessed. “And honestly, I never tried. I never understood how someone could mean so much more than anyone else, especially given just how many of you there are, and knowing exactly the depths to which you are capable of sinking. Quite literally.” He exhaled, feeling how shallow his breaths had become. “I was always satisfied, but now I find myself wanting…” he trailed off, drawn in by the open sky of her eyes. “To be known. Truly. By you.”

He sighed heavily. “I know that you think I’m crazy,” he told her hand, brushing off a tear that had fallen there. “And I know that hurts you so. Which I find myself no longer capable of tolerating.”

He let the wings gently unfurl behind him, not meeting her eyes. She squeezed his hand tightly with a sharp, surprised inhale.

“If I have ever loved anything. Anyone,” he said, dragging his eyes up to meet hers. They brimmed with unshed tears, and he watched as she brought her gaze over the wing and back to his. “I have loved you.”

He pulled her hand from atop hers and tucked his wings away. 

He stood.

She stared.

“Samael,” he told the desk, pulling down the front of his suit jacket. “My name was Samael.”

The door shut quietly behind him, leaving Chloe alone in the silence. 

She lifted her hand, still warm from his touch, to her mouth to cover it, to stifle whatever sound threatened to escape.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer just felt… exhausted. Weary to the bone, unable even to muster even the weakest of smiles.

He didn’t bother with the Corvette. As soon as he let go of the door handle to the interrogation room, he found himself walking away from the elevator doors in the penthouse, uncaring if anyone saw him disappear in a flurry of white. 

He paused for a moment, considering. With a quick turn, he locked the elevator for the first time, barring anyone from entering. 

The doors to the balcony were closed against the weather. The sky above, gray and heavy, misted rain upon the glass and blurred out the city, muting its colorful lights until they bled out, like watercolors on the landscape below.

Gray, gray, gray, right down to his suit. The world was lost in shades of the color where there had once been black and white. But lines drawn in the sand washed away with the rising tide, and Lucifer was no stranger to the pull of a current, no stranger to going under, no stranger to becoming lost.

He took off his jacket, throwing it over the bar as he selected a bottle, pouring himself a drink.

The decanter shook in his hand. 

He blamed it on the sobriety. 

He drank what was already in the glass down in one, then stared at the crystal, its facets caught in the amber light. 

He stared for God knows how long, his eyes unfocused. The quiet of the penthouse was broken only by the gentle push of wind-blown water against the glass, until even that began to break into droplets, scattering the sound.

He wanted to say that he’d done it again. Ruined things. He could have let the detective go on, thinking he was crazy. Her world would have continued to turn, and he wouldn’t have had to burden her with the truth. He knew, all too well, how much of a burden it could be. And yet…

Perhaps his brother was right, after all. Perhaps divinity should remain in their celestial sphere, as overseers and not partakers. Though he was really, very good at partaking – look at where it had gotten him, since the very beginning. He shouldn’t have ever stopped treating them as curiosities. 

Only curiosity got the best of him. 

You’d have thought he would’ve learned the first time.

He set the glass down and made his way over to the windows, to look down upon the City of Angels below. 

 

By the time she ran out of the room to find him, the precinct was all but empty. She overturned the flask in her hands, standing outside the interrogation room door. An officer passed. Chloe threw out a hand. 

“Hey,” she asked, stopping the younger woman. “Have you seen Lucifer?”

“Sorry,” the officer responded, confused. “I think he left a couple hours ago.”

Chloe released her, steadying herself, only then noticing how dark the sky had become, the florescent lights of the precinct reflecting back off the windows by the staircase. 

“Are you okay, detective?” the officer asked.

“Yeah,” she answered, her gaze still stuck on the windows. “I just don’t think he is.”

The officer left her standing there. Chloe stopped at her desk for only a moment, enough to rummage through her drawers, before moving in the opposite direction to head further downstairs. 

There was a certain recording she was going to have to get ahold of.

 

The officers downstairs worked regular shifts, so all Chloe had to do was sign in and find the right file in the ancient computer to bring up the recording from that afternoon. The acrid smell of millions of abandoned files assaulted her nose as she searched through the database, sitting alone in the dark, her face lit up by the screen.

She and Lucifer entered the room together. She watched as she tensed, then teased, as Lucifer moved from angry to playful to serious, then deadly serious.

He leaned over and placed his hand over hers with such an imploring look in his eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to look away now as she had then, wanting to see everything with objective eyes.

He spoke, and she remembered the words, even as she kept the video on mute.

She didn’t dare blink. 

The recording stuttered, pixelating as it replayed the last second twice over, when he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

It flickered, keeping them both in focus but pixelating the space behind him, like watching a webcam on a slow internet connection. She moved the cursor to go back a minute, seeing if it would replay.

The same distortion happened.

She thought it was, perhaps, vaguely wing-shaped, and wondered if that particular descriptor had ever occurred to her, before. 

Then, he stood and left, leaving her sitting, alone. 

She dragged the file over to copy it, then removed her flash drive from the tower. 

 

Maze was more than happy to stay inside with the child, the weather putting a damper on her mood. Chloe chatted with Trixie for a few minutes, listening to her chatter along about how Maze was already helping her aim (“at darts,” the other woman insisted, as Trixie giggled), and decided that perhaps whoever – or whatever – Maze was supposed to be could wait.

She hadn’t done anything worse to the house than sticking a couple holes in the drywall, and especially nothing to Trixie. Chloe wondered if Trixie was, in fact, safer than she had ever been, with any other babysitter.

 

The drive to Lux didn’t take as long, perhaps because Chloe’s mind didn’t wander as it usually did. It stayed blissfully, blessedly, blank. Focused. 

When she arrived, Lux was running business-as-usual, the crowd a little thinner than weekend evenings. People sat together, talking and enjoying the warmth and company as low music filled the space. The bartender shook up a drink before pouring the ice-cold liquid into two martini glasses.

Chloe let them be. 

She got inside the elevator, but the button for the penthouse wouldn’t depress. Something in her chest sank at the thought of Lucifer, whose door was always open, finally shutting it.

Against her.

_Nope. That’s not how this works._

She pressed for the highest floor she could reach, steeling herself.

 

He didn’t hear her arrive. 

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, dampened by the rain. The clouds reflected the city’s light pollution, leaving even the darkness washed out and ashen. 

She climbed the last few steps, coming in through his darkened kitchen and out into his library. Sometime in the night he had lit the fireplace beside him, its light flickering on the black marble floors, throwing shadows across the room.

She wavered at the threshold onto the marble, clasping the flask in her hands nervously. Lucifer was standing at the balcony doors, looking out. She watched him dip his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. 

He looked her over, his face carefully blank.

She lifted the flask in a small motion. “You left this.”

His expression didn’t change. 

She heaved in a breath, pulled up her courage, and walked to the bar to set it down. He watched her every movement, turning on his heel.

The silence settled heavily between them.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, making herself look at him. “For not believing you. You were telling me the truth, all this time, and I didn’t listen.”

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, his face still a mask. “That’s what free will is.”

She picked back up the flask, turning it over in her hands. “Yeah,” she said, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess it is. And, uh. You would know.”

Realizing what she was doing, she quickly set it back down, making herself leave it be.

“Yes,” he said. 

She shivered, and not from the cold.

She looked into the fire, able to feel its warmth from across the room. The thought flashed across her mind that she should find it frightening, with the Devil standing right beside it.

But it was only inviting.

And it was only Lucifer.

She blew out a long exhale, feeling herself relax. He tilted his head, curious, then rapidly straightened as she ducked behind the bar, pouring out two glasses. Before she had a chance to stop herself, Chloe was across the room, handing him a glass and taking a sip from the one in her hand. 

He took it, astonishment written plain on his face. 

“I watched the tape,” she began, moving to take a seat. He followed suit, sitting across from her. “It didn’t show… anything. I mean. Us. But you know. Not –”

“The wings?” he finished, for her.

She nodded once, her eyes falling to her glass. “You know, I liked it better when I thought you were crazy, and not me thinking I’m the crazy one.” She looked up, making sure Lucifer understood her teasing tone.

He did not. Any lightness in his face fell with her words. 

She reached over, placing a hand on his. “Hey. I’m joking.” She conjured up a smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Mostly.”

He kept his eyes on her hand, saying nothing. Which scared her. More than learning he was – you know.

“Could I –” she started, faltering under his sudden gaze. “See them again?”

“They aren’t a party favor, detective,” he said coldly.

Quickly she retracted her hand, taking her glass between both and nodding at it. “No, yeah. Of course.”

She felt more than heard Lucifer’s pained exhaled, lifting just enough to see through her lashes. He closed his eyes, something angry flickering across his face. 

“They’re beautiful,” she tried. 

He hung his head, running his hands over his face as he shook it. 

“Talk to me,” she pleaded, setting down her glass. “Please.”

He didn’t lift his head, but stilled, letting his hands fall away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured. Her heart ached at the sight of him, so defeated. “Lucifer.”

He lifted marginally, but wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Is that a promise?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said, and finally his eyes met hers. “Unless you don’t want me here.” His confused expression spoke for him. She gestured over her shoulder. “You locked the elevator.”

His eyes darted over to its closed doors. “Yes, well. I didn’t think you’d come. I didn’t particularly feel like dealing with anyone else, tonight.”

Playfully she poked his arm. “Oh, I came alright,” she said, with a small smile. He huffed out a breath in a small laugh, and she relished in the smile threatening to form in the corner of his mouth. 

Her next words surprised him.

“Do you have a blanket?” she asked, looking around as she stood. 

“In the closet,” he answered. “Why?”

“Would you mind?” she asked, gesturing in the general direction as she leaned over, unzipping her boots. He watched, curious, before his eyes widened and he leapt to his feet. 

She shook his head at his enthusiasm, and was settled, sans shoes and jacket, back on the couch by the time he returned.

He thrust it at her. She took it with a laugh, shaking it out and settling it over herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. He stood, awkwardly watching, until she lifted half the blanket and patted the space beside her for him to sit.

Hesitantly, he did.

She pressed into his side, and he bewilderedly lifted an arm to accommodate her. She threw the rest of the blanket over his still very-clothed self before settling into the space beside him.

After a moment, he allowed his hand to hand to rest on her shoulder.

“It’s cold,” she explained, “and you’re warm.”

“Glad to be of assistance?” 

She smiled up at him, and he felt himself relax.

She rested her head against his shoulder. “So,” she began, setting in. “Where do you want to begin?”

“With what?” he asked, unsure.

“The story.”

When he didn’t answer, she pulled back enough to look up. 

“It’s a long one,” he explained, before daring to lift her chin with a finger, giving her every chance to stop him.

She did not. 

He leaned close, fluttering his eyes closed as his nose brushed hers. She did the same, breathing in his soft breath, able to feel his chest rise and fall against her hand as she dragged it upward. “May I begin here?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “But you are going to tell me everything.”

“Everything,” he promised, brushing his lips against hers. “You see, in the beginning,” he started, and she laughed. 

“Hold on,” she exhaled, catching his mouth in a kiss. 

He felt her smile behind it just before he pressed further, deepening it.

When the fire died and the Sun rose, Lucifer covered Chloe with the blanket, letting her sleep on. She reached for him as he pulled away, the murmur of his name of her lips.

He leaned down to brush his lips over her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he told her. 

“That’s good,” she mumbled, face half-way smashed into the pillow.

He huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps,” he told her, looking up into the clear, brightening sky. “I hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you need a second chapter. I'm considering it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> EDIT: Okay! I'm going to put together another chapter! XD love all your feedback, everyone!!
> 
> EDIT: Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!


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